


dying is easy, young man

by mirkandmidnight



Series: if/then [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bring Ben Home, Fights, Gen, Past Relationship(s), Psychological Torture, Redemption, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5582209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkandmidnight/pseuds/mirkandmidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How that torture scene really went</p>
            </blockquote>





	dying is easy, young man

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously at this point in the series, we're going a little canon divergence, but hey. Whatever.

Kylo Ren was a lot of things, but he was no man's fool. He knew who Poe Dameron was the second his storm troopers had brought the other man before him. The sheer insolence, the bravado that permeated his entire being-well, that was Poe Dameron all over.

“Who talks first? Do you talk first? Do I talk first?” Poe asked, and Kylo froze in place.

After he recovered from the shock of the encounter (Poe Dameron was dead, had died in a plane crash six years ago, this was clearly some mass hallucination or a particularly convincing lookalike) Kylo gestured to one of the storm troopers and stood.

“Take him to the ship,” he ordered, a little surprised to hear his own voice through the respirator. He'd half expected it to come out the way it had sounded ten years ago, when he and Poe Dameron had been children together. The storm troopers hauled the impostor away, and Kylo watched with a kind of grim satisfaction. He would see who this man really was. But first, he had other matters to take care of.  
***  
Kylo Ren entered the interrogation room uncharacteristically apprehensive about what was to come. It wasn't really Poe Dameron, couldn't be Poe Dameron. The man was dead. Still, this man knew something useful, the location of a map with vital information to finding Luke Skywalker. No matter what, Kylo needed that map.

He stared the man down, noting the streaks of blood on his forehead with an almost clinical gaze. “I'm impressed,” he commented, hating the way his voice shook from beneath the helmet. Of course, it didn't matter with the regulator. “No one has been able to get it out of you, what you did with the map.”

The man laughed and grinned, somehow managing to look rakish beneath the blood and grime covering his face. “Might need to change your technique.”

( _Poe Dameron_ , his subconscious insisted.)

No.

( ** _Poe Dameron._** )

It _wasn't._

He threw up a hand and pulled at the impostor's mind with the Force, searching ruthlessly for the location of the map. It had to be there somewhere, didn't it?

A wave of memories crashed against the barriers of his mind, and Kylo Ren was nearly flung backwards by the sheer _weight_ of them. Two carefree boys, speeding along the surface of a desert planet, shrieking with laughter.. The same boys, years younger, duelling with sticks somewhere in the bowels of a Resistance base. Himself and Poe-no. Ben Solo and Poe Dameron. But Ben Solo was dead. Long dead.

Poe (Because it was Poe Dameron but it couldn't be because if it was Poe Dameron then _what was the point?_ ) let out a wrenching scream, face twisting in agony. He flung his hand down, recoiling from Poe's mind. He couldn't do this, couldn't, _couldn't do it._ He stood frozen as Poe gasped in a breath, a stricken expression on his face.

“Gotcha,” Poe wheezed.

What?

“What,” he said flatly.

“Ben Solo,” Poe said, giving a lopsided grin. “Hey.”

What.

“What?”

Poe tilted his head. “Ben Solo. Long time, no see. What the hell are you doing here?”

“You're supposed to be dead,” he spat. “What are you doing here?”

The other man looked confused and angry all at the same time. “What do you mean, you're the one who's supposed to be dead, all of Luke Skywalker's apprentices were killed-oh.” His mouth rounded into a little 'o'. “Shit. You.” Poe shook his head, sounding more as if he was trying to convince himself otherwise than anything else. “Ben-”

Kylo clenched his hands into fists. “Don't call me that.”

Poe held up his hands as well as he could, given the restraints. “Hey, hey, hey, I'm sorry.” He said it as if he was trying to calm a fearful animal. “Sorry. It's just been so long and,” he swallowed hard and jerked his chin at Kylo's face. “So do you have some kinda ganky face scar under that thing?”

“That's a little high handed, I'm supposed to be torturing information out of you.”

He laughed aloud. “Yeah, but I mean, we both know you're not really going to do that.” Poe flailed his hands, pulling at the restraints. “This is terribly uncomfortable.”

“That's unfortunate,” Kylo said coolly.

“So, ganky face scar? Yes? No?” Poe asked, but Kylo shook his head. “Okay. No face scar. Cool.” He paused for a moment. “So, you wanna take the mask off?”

He didn't answer but turned his back to Poe.

“Come on,” Poe wheedled. “What harm is it going to do? Do it for an old friend.”

He reached up, pressing the release on the helmet and listened to the hiss of air. He lifted the helmet free and held it loosely in one hand, then turned quickly to face Poe again.

Poe sucked in a quick breath.

He had never felt so terrified.

He had never felt so _exhilarated_.

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched out between them, and he found himself wanting to say something, anything to break the interminable silence. But what was there? There wasn't a thing he could say.

Finally Poe took it upon himself to break the silence. “You look good,” he said awkwardly.

“Unfortunately I can't say the same for you.”

“And whose fault is that?” Poe commented.

“Not mine.” He hesitated. “Look, just give me the location of the map. I'm going to get it eventually, wouldn't it be easier to give it to me? I know how painful this is.”

Poe shook his head. “What do you know about this kind of pain?” he asked, heat in his voice.

Kylo looked back at him. “Pain is what makes me strong,” he bit out. “At least I haven't been sitting pretty on some Resistance base for the last six years, I've been working, trying to make the galaxy better.” Why did he feel the need to defend himself to this man? His actions were helping. His choices were _reasonable_.

“People have died,” Poe spat.

“People die every day!” he shouted. _You died_ , he meant. _You left me here, all alone_. The helmet fell from his gloved fingers and clanged against the floor. Kylo Ren's face twisted. “Give me the map.”

Poe shook his head. “I can't do that.”

Kylo raised a hand, preparing to use the Force again, preparing to strip the other man's mind like a rusted bolt. He gritted his teeth. “Then I'll kill you.”

“No, you won't,” Poe said with false calmness. He put on a good show, but Kylo could see the fear in his eyes, the fear that satisfied and horrified him all at once.

“Yes. I will.” _Lie._

A storm trooper entered the room swiftly. “Sir?” she said, and Kylo whipped around. She flinched at the sight of his bare face, and he gave a feral grin.

“What?”

She took a step back. MT-3304 had always been rather skittish, a quality Captain Phasma was always griping about in meetings. “We've, uh, we've found the map. It's still on Jakku, in an orange and white droid. A BB-8 model. Looks custom.”

Kylo waved a hand at her. “Dismissed.” MT-3304 scurried out of the room, and he turned back to face Poe Dameron, who looked stricken.

“You kept it?” he asked. He vaguely recalled long afternoons spent on the Resistance base, Poe fiddling with the mechanics of a BB-8 droid while Ben scrounged for spare parts, begging for what he could and stealing what he couldn't get. One night, he'd painted the casing orange and white, like the flight suits Poe was always talking about.

Poe looked evenly back at him. “It's been a faithful friend, unlike some I could name.”

Kylo spat in his general direction and put the helmet back on, stalking out of the interrogation room. He pulled his lightsaber from his belt, searching out the nearest empty room. He ducked through a door and vented his fury, leaving the room a smoking mess of tangled metal. Kylo Ren sat on the one remaining chair in the room, resting his elbows on his knees and tilting his head forward to slide the helmet off.

He carded his hands through his dark hair, groaning. This was bad. This was very bad. This was _very, very bad_. Poe Dameron was a distraction from what he was meant to be doing. He needed to _concentrate_ , to focus his energy and hatred into something he could use. Only then could he truly finish what his grandfather had started so many years ago.

Of course, a ghost from his past turning up wasn't exactly making things easier for him. Something would have to be done about Poe, that was all. Kylo would just have to get rid of him somehow and then everything would be back to normal.

Killing him would be the obvious solution, but something in Kylo rejected the idea utterly. He frowned a little. What was that about?

He stood, putting the helmet back on. Well. Poe Dameron was a part of the Resistance. If they were to ever find out where the Resistance was hiding itself, they would need to be led back to it. That wouldn't work unless they had someone who knew where it was. If Dameron were to, say, conveniently escape, he could be followed. But he would need help to get off the ship.

FN-2187 had been acting odd lately. Perhaps Kylo could just give him a little push, suggest the idea of helping Dameron escape to him using the Force.

No one could know, of course. FN-2187 would just have to be branded a traitor. But that was a consequence that Kylo Ren was more than willing to shoulder. After all, he was just a storm trooper, wasn't he? It wasn't like he mattered. Not in the way that Dameron mattered. He knew things, things Kylo needed to know.  
***  
Then things went belly up with the girl.

Kylo took his anger out on another room on Starkiller base, noting with grim satisfaction the two storm troopers who scurried out of the way. He let out a scream of pure, unadulterated fury, followed by a long string of increasingly colorful curses.

Down at the end of the corridor, Captain Phasma paused. One of her storm troopers had come running, saying that Kylo Ren had finally snapped and was destroying the entire communications sector. She'd come with the intention of assessing the situation and neutralizing him for the time being, but this was far beyond her capabilities.

She winced at the invective emanating from yet another destroyed room. Honestly, that was the third one this week! Sith or not, something needed to be done about this immaturity. She was utterly sick of it, and it was terrible for troop morale. Phasma strode forward purposefully, hand on her blaster.

A tangle of metal was flung by some unseen force through the open door, crashing through the opposing wall. Phasma froze for a moment, then turned around and went back the way she'd come. Best to leave this to the professionals, say, General Hux. That was a plan. She'd just let him sort this one out.  
***  
“Supreme Leader,” Kylo Ren called, standing in the center of the giant receiving room.

The giant figure of Snoke flickered into existence. “What is it, Kylo Ren?” he asked, sounding vaguely exasperated.

Kylo bowed his head. “I apologize for asking for an audience at this late hour,” he started, feeling a stab of shame in his chest. The Supreme Leader had better things to do than sit around all night listening to him. “But I am in sore need of guidance.”

Snoke scowled. “It will have to wait, Ren. I am an old man. I need my sleep.” He made a motion as if to end the connection.

“Wait!” Kylo called, his head snapping up. If he could just explain to the Supreme Leader the doubts he was having, and that his grandfather's spirit had failed to ease them, he was certain that Snoke could fix things. He would no longer be victim to these niggling doubts. He would be able to give himself fully to the Dark Side of the Force.

“Kylo Ren,” Snoke thundered, “I am not your servant to bandy words with. You are meant to be my servant, to do as I say without endless questioning! You have failed me today, letting the girl escape. Do so again, and I will not be so forgiving. Now, leave me.” The hologram flickered out, leaving him standing alone in the cavernous room.

This was all Poe Dameron's fault. If he had never shown up, this whole thing would never have happened and he would have been able to concentrate, to focus, to use his anger and fear. This was all because of Dameron.

Kylo stalked out of the receiving room, headed back towards his quarters. He would not fail the Supreme Leader again, no matter what happened.  
***  
Then things really went belly up with the girl. She and her friends (including Dameron, screw him) had somehow managed to blow up the biggest weapon in the galaxy, and not only that, she'd brought Han Solo with her.

The old man stirred up more memories than he would have expected. Fortunately (?) the old man wouldn't be around any longer to do so. At least, that's what he had thought. Killing Han Solo had been...difficult. He'd nearly been tempted back to the Light Side, to the side of the wildly inefficient and foolishly idealistic.

But killing Han Solo had only served to further the turmoil roiling in his gut. That was ridiculous. Cutting ties with the last person from his past should have strengthened him, should have made him more.

But it hadn't.

Then he'd managed to injure the traitor (but was he a traitor? If the First Order was all that Snoke had promised, why had FN-2187 wanted to leave in the first place?) FN-2187, the only bright spot in his day so far. And he had nearly reclaimed his grandfather's lightsaber, that was something. But that blasted girl (Rey was her name, his mind supplied) had pulled it to her.

They'd fought, of course, and Kylo should have been able to win easily. She had never trained, and he had years of experience on her. But she was powerful beyond what should have been possible, and he wasn't sure that even had he been at his best, he would have been able to beat her. She wielded the Force with single minded determination that was spectacularly difficult to combat, and he certainly wasn't at his best.

Kylo had offered to teach her, but had she accepted his offer? No. Rey had thrown it back in his face, then sliced his face open, throwing him down on his back into the snow. She stood over him, the blue lightsaber's tip at his throat. Her eyes were dark as he stared back up at her. It would be so easy for her to kill him. He wasn't sure he would be able to stop her should she try.

He wasn't even sure he would try to stop her should she want to.

But the earth had split between them, and he scrambled backwards, keeping his eyes on Rey as she stared back at him across the newly formed chasm. Rocks tumbled down, making an awful din. She turned away, picking up FN-2187 and setting off at a jog through the snow, her small figure quickly disappearing.

The planet was collapsing. Who knew how long it would before it was completely unstable?

Lying on his back in the snow, Kylo considered his options. He couldn't stay here, not if he wanted to live. He couldn't go back to Snoke. The Supreme Leader had made it all too clear that if he failed again, he was a dead man. And what, exactly, would he call this? He couldn't go to the Resistance. He had burned that bridge long ago, and who was to say they would even take him if he went?

What an absolute disaster. There was no one in the galaxy who would want him or take him. He was completely, utterly alone. Kylo sat up, curling in on himself to protect his wounds. He couldn't go back. Such was the life he had chosen. If he looked back for even a second, the weight of his memories and of his guilt would crush him. He couldn't go back, and he wouldn't go forward. He failed at everything he tried.

“Worthless,” he bit out, choking back a sob.

The earth shook under him, and Kylo looked up, startled. The planet would collapse soon, and if he wanted to live, he needed to leave. He hauled himself to his feet and started jogging back to the base, lightsaber clutched in one hand. Kylo made it quickly back to the hangar and ducked inside, scanning for any storm troopers.

Luckily, everyone had evacuated already. And no one had given a thought to where he might be, had they?

Kylo Ren slid into the pilot's seat of the last remaining X Wing in the hangar and gunned the engines. He took off quickly, dodging flying chunks of debris. He didn't spare a glance backwards at the planet as he cleared the atmosphere.

Something tacky dripped from his face, and he frowned. Kylo dabbed at his cheek and inspected one finger. Blood. Oh. Right. Rey had slashed his face during the duel. He'd just have to take care of that once he hit hyper light speed.

The radio crackled with static, and Kylo glanced at it momentarily. But that was all that came through the radio. If the First Order had any opinions on his flight, they chose not to voice them.

So. He was truly on his own. Well, that suited him just fine.


End file.
